Grow Your Own Gargoyle

Grow Your Own Gargoyle

by Valerie Hardin
Illustrations by Carol Moore

---

Wendy clutched her Slime Sisters comic book. She saved her allowance to buy all kinds of things that were in the back of the comic. She had bought talking fish, dancing dolls, living pet rock, giant super heroes, and all kinds of other stuff.
She'd run to get the mail. "My giant super heroes are here." Wendy had opened it up, but they weren't as big as a child like in the ad. In small print were the words "not actual size."
All the other things she had sent for didn't work right either. The dolls didn't have batteries and broke after just two days. The living rock was not alive, and all the other toys and games she bought were lying twisted and broken in a heap on her bed.
She sat on the floor and frowned.
"Can I come in?" her Mom, Mrs. Delane, asked.
Wendy nodded. Mrs. Delane moved some of the junk away and sat down. She had a tiny package in her hand. "Maybe you shouldn't send for any more toys?" Mrs. Delane said, "but you have one more package."
Wendy took the package. It said "The Living Gargoyle Co."
"I forgot all about this," Wendy said. She opened the package and there were two very small gargoyles with pointy ears, and a small piece of paper.

Grow Your Own Gargoyle

1. Put each gargoyle in a large bowl of water. (Don't put them in the same bowl; the gargoyles need space to grow.)
2. Wait overnight and they will have grown more than twice their size.
3. Dry them off with a towel.

P.S. Gargoyles are very cranky at first, so plan activities they will enjoy like picnics and tag. No, they can't fly.

"I might as well try. I think Stacy had a sponge toy like this and hers grew." Wendy smiled and removed the junk from her bed. "Mom, can you get me two bowls of water?"
"If you promise to clean your room." Her Mom said, and got her the bowls and tucked Wendy in.
Wendy went to sleep and dreamed the gargoyles grew as big as her house and were very mean looking.
She felt something wet on her ear and woke up. The gargoyles were on her bed.

Grow Your Own Gargoyle - Page 2

---

"Dry me," said gargoyle one.
"No, me first," said the other one.
Wendy didn't scream because the directions said they'd be real cranky. "Okay, I'll dry you both." Wendy dried them off with towels.
Wendy named one Lester and the other one Tina, because one of them was a boy and the other one was a girl. When Wendy was off at school, they'd get into pillow fights and make her room a mess.
"You have to clean up your room," Mrs. Delane said. "Your Dad almost fainted when he saw your room."
"But Lester and Tina made the mess."
"They're your gargoyles and you have to clean up after them."
Wendy gave them crayons to draw with, but they ended up drawing all over the walls and it took Wendy hours to clean the walls.


Grow Your Own Gargoyle - Page 3

---

As soon as she was done with that she had to clean sticky bubble gum off of Lester's wings.
"This place is so much fun," Tina said. "Most of us are sent back to the company."
"And the kids get their money back?" Wendy asked.
"Nope," Lester said. "You have to pay the company."
Tina shook her head. "The other gargoyles are much crankier than us. The reason I'm nicer to you is I like it here. I never want to leave. I like you too."
"Well, there are those pillow fights," Wendy replied.
"We won't have them any more." Tina smiled.
"No, I don't mind if you have pillow fights as along as I'm allowed to join in."
They tossed pillows and sang songs. Afterward they cleaned up the mess. Mrs. Delane made Wendy, Lester and Tina cups of hot chocolate and tucked them into bed. Tina started to snore.
"Maybe you can order more gargoyles," Lester said.
"No, two are all the gargoyles I can handle." Wendy closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Second Thoughts

by Carol Moore
Illustrated by Jason Paulhamus		DAY ONE Tuesday, June 15      At high noon a large spaceship floated gently down out of a blue sky to land on the front lawn of the White House. It rested motionless for the next five hours while the White House hummed with activity. The President was evacuated and then the military moved in with troops, tanks and helicopters. Stealth fighters roared overhead. Both Congress and the United Nations called emergency sessions as a frightened world held its breath.      At exactly 5:00 p.m. eastern time, a small door opened in the side of the craft and a human-like creature stepped out.      As beings go, it wasn't that alarming. About three feet tall, it had a large head atop a small body with two spindly legs. And there were feather-like appendages growing from its head as well as from what could have been a tail if it were a bird. But it moved like a human and wore a one-piece uniform of a gold metallic material that sparkled in the sun. Walking to the nearest soldier, it stopped short, its two unnaturally large eyes blinking twice. Then in perfect English with a high-pitched voice, it said, "Take me to your esteemed leader."      After much military and political consternation, the request was granted. Standing before the President of the United States, who was seated at his desk in the oval office surrounded by half a dozen secret agents, the little being bowed. "President and Chief Commander, I humbly come to you as ambassador facilitator for an ancient and distinguished race. Please realize that you're dealing with beings of such power that their purpose must be friendly or you'd have already been destroyed in my humble estimation."      It paused to scratch the base of a head feather. "I myself am Mooba. My kind are respected throughout the universe as the finest of translators. I must tell you that the Xxlepis ship has been moored at the edge of your solar system for a year now while I've been studying your languages and customs on their behalf. I know all there is to know about all of you, in my humble opinion."      The President smiled halfheartedly, "Should I find that comforting?"      Mooba brightened, "Of course. Because I'm thorough I rarely make mistakes." He shrugged. "I'll admit to a few, but none that wasn't rectified. I'm sorry to inform you that yours is not the only species I considered for contact on this planet. There are some others more appealing, but yours is the most intelligent. And yours is also the only species believing themselves in charge."      The President's eyebrows lifted at such a statement.      Mooba continued, "For purposes of decorum, tomorrow I will teach you about the Xxlepis." His top feathers suddenly stiffened. "Be forewarned. Although highly evolved intellectually, the Xxlepis are emotionally fragile and quick to perceive imaginary insults if decorum isn't carefully followed. They're quirky that way--easily offended. And if you offend them you will not reap the benefits they can bestow."      "Fair enough" the President agreed, but his expression was one of puzzlement.      The conversation was over. DAY TWO Wednesday, June 16      The next day two soldiers were sent to escort Mooba back to the White House, but he wasn't on the spaceship. Instead, when the President with his staff and secret agents arrived at the meeting room, Mooba was already there. Without anyone noticing, he had left the spaceship, slipped through a ring of military, a mob of reporters and White House staff to find the secured meeting room no one had told him about the day before. It unnerved the President and particularly his secret agents.      Standing at the back of the room Mooba waited for everyone to get settled. Then he abruptly began, "The first thing to do when introduced...is to bow. Some of your human cultures already practice that formality. And the second thing after bowing... is to do nothing." He paused for emphasis. "It's best, Sir President, to allow me to do all the talking, particularly in the beginning. The Xxlepis themselves rarely speak because words to them are sacred. They believe that by saying less, what is said increases in value. So speaking only at the end of a conversation is a sign of respect. Of course, in my humble opinion, that makes for very short conversations." It was hard to tell if Mooba was joking so no one laughed.      The alien continued. "The Xxlepis find it difficult dealing with other cultures, so they take great care to insulate themselves. In addition to being their translator I serve as a filter to shield their refined sensibilities--but still I must be accurate and complete. Not an easy job, in my humble opinion. The Xxlepis are emotional, you see. Despite all their sophistication, they just want to be loved and they can't handle rejection. I think you humans can appreciate that." He watched as one of the staff arose and walked to a table at the side of the room pouring himself a cup of coffee.      "What's that?"      "The President smiled. "It's coffee, a common beverage. And there's also donuts. Would you like some?"      Mooba's top feathers twitched excitedly. "Certainly." He stepped quickly across the room and to everyone's surprise gulped down a whole carafe of hot coffee. Then he grabbed several donuts. Returning to the front of the room, he noisily smacked his lips. Powdered sugar from the donuts had somehow ended up on his chin. It was a comical sight that everyone politely ignored.      "That was tasty," he said, "in my humble opinion. Now, let me explain more about the Xxlepis. Having mastered the mysteries of science and technology, they have returned to the arts, particularly their poetry. They are on a quest for new forms of expression. For example, the 20 ways an elephant calls to its young or the 59 words the Eskimos use for snow. Whether or not a language is written or spoken is of secondary importance. The Xxlepis take pleasure in converting all manner of creature communication into just the right word with a precise meaning and contextual flavor to be used in their poetry. So they traverse the universe in search of communication to define new words because, to them, only words have true value. Personally, I think it's because words convey emotions."      "Speaking of value..." Mooba stopped mid-thought. "Ah... could I have more coffee?"      "Sir, there's no more coffee," said one of the agents addressing the President.      The President waved his hand. "Well then, please get another carafe. It'll only take a minute."      The agent left the room. Through the door, which had not fully closed, squeezed a short, rotund Basset Hound. It went immediately to the President wagging its tail while casting side-glances at Mooba.      "Hi there, Sally," the President gently stroked the dog's back. "Mooba, this is my dog. She just had puppies four weeks ago. What do you think of her?"      Mooba was quite interested, particularly when Sally left the President to approach him, her tail still wagging. He bent over so that his face was almost level with the dog's and she licked the sugar off his chin. His head feathers danced wildly. "I like her," he said and then made a noise somewhere between a bark and a whine. It startled everyone in the room, but Sally woofed in response.      Suddenly, the agent with the coffee appeared. "Here's the coffee, Sir."      At that point Sally was let out of the room. Mooba drank more coffee, after which he continued instructing the President.      "As I was saying, concerning value it's things that have no price that are worth the most to the Xxlepis. Things such as honor or knowledge or joy. That's because emotions, or the intangible, offer infinite possibilities for new words of shading and intensity. When a thing has a price, its value is already set, defined and limited according to the Xxlepis. So instead of price, value for them is in how many words a thing inspires."      "But as for emotions...the Xxlepis fell in love with the Drugans on the planet Phizell because they're always laughing. They have 32 words for 'giggle'. The Xxlepis were so thrilled with this that they made fools of themselves, showering them with half our gifts." He frowned. "I had an awful time convincing them to leave that planet."      Rolling his eyes, the little alien continued.      "Unfortunately, your culture values things more than words. That's what I learned from your television and radio signals. For example, when a commercial says a car has a soul, where does that leave a man? In order to add value to a thing, you've stolen a word meant only for living beings and devalued it. And in devaluing that word you've devalued yourselves. The Xxlepis would never understand and it's better that they not know about it. In my humble opinion."      Mooba patted a tail feather. "On the other hand, your world's libraries are filled with books and are an endless resource for poetry and great writings. Human beings are capable of deep thought and intense emotions and some have a desire to define them. It is these writings that will appeal to the Xxlepis and they will reward you beyond imagination. As long as they remain on this planet they will bestow gifts, so it's to your benefit to please them. That's all I can say."      He bowed and the meeting was abruptly over. DAY THREE Thursday, June 17      The introduction of the Xxlepis was set for noon. Although it was an unusually overcast day, that hadn't stopped a huge crowd from forming. At two minutes to 12:00 the President and four secret agents walked slowly up the red carpet and stopped 20 feet from the craft.      With the opening of a large door, a strange green mist emanated from the craft. Then a long and gently sloped ramp slid out upon which Mooba exited. The murmuring crowd hushed as three figures emerged from behind him. The figures were nearly seven feet tall, rather thin, and covered entirely in grey-green flowing robes and hoods. More than anything they resembled Gregorian monks, but it was how they moved that was startling. Although there was not a breath of wind, their robes rippled fluidly and they appeared to pour across the 20 feet coming to rest alongside Mooba and in front of the President and the agents.      Mooba's high voice spoke into the multitude of microphones set up by reporters and it sounded over the PA system. "Members of planet earth, I am pleased to introduce you to the Xxlepis. And, they in turn are very pleased to meet you." As he said this the three beings bowed deeply as did the President and his agents.      Mooba continued, "Supreme Commander, President of the United States and all citizens of earth, I am pleased to inform you on behalf of the Xxlepis that today they would like you to accept this gift that they offer you without reservation." Withdrawing something from a hidden pocket, Mooba handed it to the President.      Accepting the object, which fit into the palm of his hand, the President bowed again. "Thank you."      Seeing the three Xxlepis nodding from beneath their hoods, Mooba added, "The Xxlepis thank you, too."      The crowd roared their approval and the first meeting was over. DAYS FOUR - TWENTY Friday-Sunday, June 18-July 4      When the gift was examined, scientists were astounded. The President had been handed a container that turned out to hold bacteria from a distant planet. Because these bacteria could manufacture any mineral, the Xxlepis had cultivated and refined it for multiple purposes. Specifically in humans, once ingested the bacteria became symbiotic with living cells and went about curing deficiencies. The resulting good health was miraculous and the closest thing to a fountain-of-youth elixir that humanity had ever experienced. Furthermore, the bacteria were easily reproduced.      The President wished to reciprocate with a gift of equal value and at Mooba's recommendation commissioned a compendium of sacred writings to be compiled in their original languages. Mooba assured him that as a gift, this would be a delightful surprise for the Xxlepis. It was an ambitious project requiring scholars of every religion and the United Nations was appointed to coordinate it. All nations agreed that no amount of money or effort should be spared to have the gift ready for the next meeting with the Xxlepis.      Mooba hadn't anticipated the effect the Xxlepis would have on their hosts. Mankind became like children at Christmas. While the Xxlepis's gift of health was reproduced en mass, that was just the beginning.      Everything had to be Xxlepis-related. To accommodate the demand, manufacturers broke all records (nearly those of physics) to get out a plethora of products. Overnight Gregorian monk's garb became the fashion craze, gray-green the most popular color until Monday when pastel-greens were introduced followed closely by polka dots. People were dressing their babies and pets in robes with cowls. Xxlepis gray-green began showing up on toys, dish ware, buildings. If imitation is the highest form of flattery then the Xxlepis should have been flattered indeed.      Commercials advertising Xxlepis products had but one theme, life was better with Xxlepis whether you wore Xxlepis clothes or sat on Xxlepis furniture. The inference was, so long as you had Xxlepis you were a somebody with something. Unfortunately, the opposite inference was also true, for without Xxlepis you were considered a nobody with nothing.      The irony was not lost on Mooba who watched commercialism turn the Xxlepis, a race of beings who loved the nonmaterial, into the biggest name brand of all time. DAY TWENTY-ONE Monday, July 5      When the President and his staff appeared at the spaceship on Monday noon it was before a vastly different-looking crowd. Although a hot July day, the majority was wearing hooded robes, waving signs and holding banners that said, "Xxlepis rocks!"      This day, upon exiting the craft, the three Xxlepis did not immediately bow. Although their faces couldn't be seen, it appeared that from beneath the cowls they were turning their heads to examine the crowd. Watching them, Mooba's head feathers stiffened noticeably and he frowned.      This time it was the President who came bearing a gift. The President proudly offered the huge book heavy with gold leafing that one of the Xxlepis gingerly accepted, grasping it with long fingers while the other two Xxlepis stretched forward for a closer look. Their grey-green robes cast a greenish hue over the book.      "Please accept this gift from mankind," said the President, his voice trembling. "Over 300 of our finest scholars assembled it from our sacred writings."      Translating, Mooba looked pleased.      Caught up in the moment and almost as an afterthought, the President added, "Millions were spent. With its parchment and gold leafing, it's the most expensive book ever created."      Mooba's head feathers quivered the moment the President said the most expensive book ever created. He didn't look pleased. He stopped translating and stared at the President. "Ah, Sir President, in my humble opinion..." he interrupted, but his warning went unheeded.      "Go on. Tell them," the President urged and Mooba complied.      The reaction was immediate. Shoving the book back at the President, which he almost dropped, the three Xxlepis, murmuring bubbling-clicking noises, whipped about and swept back up into the spaceship faster than anybody thought they could move. Mooba followed as closely behind as his spindly legs allowed. Pausing at the ship's doorway he turned and shrugged as though apologizing just before the metal door slammed shut with a thud.      The President and crowd, indeed the whole nation and all of earth were stunned. They felt like children awakening Christmas morning to discover that their presents had been stolen.      There was no further contact with the Xxlepis although vigorous attempts were made using a PA system as well as radio and television waves and banging on the spaceship doors. Now nobody anywhere talked about anything except the Xxlepis and why they had so abruptly left the gathering. Earth commiserated. DAY TWENTY-TWO Tuesday, July 6      Early Tuesday, without ado, the huge spacecraft gently lifted into the morning air and disappeared.      It was then Mooba sought admittance to the White House, shocking everyone because they thought he had left along with his alien employers. Escorted to the President's oval office, Mooba's head feathers began to wave as he moaned sorrowfully. "In my humble opinion, my job is just too difficult."      The President agreed without knowing why as Mooba sat down on a chair. A couple of agents approached to stand behind him. "It's my fault. I thought I'd made you understand, but I was wrong. You meant only to impress when you said the book cost millions to create. But as soon as you gave it a price, in the eyes of the Xxlepis you declared it useless. They were insulted and horrified. They couldn't leave fast enough."      He hesitated and then glared at the President as if to suggest he did share responsibility. Then Mooba sighed. "It's my humble opinion that they'd never have understood your species anyway."      "Well then why are you here?" the President was incredulous.      Suddenly the little alien smiled. "Because unlike the Xxlepis, I don't care about words or meaning or money. Except in the performance of my job, of course. I'm due for a vacation and I'd like a little fun." Before agents could stop him he had jumped up and moved to the President's desk grabbing sour lemon candies from a dish. Popping them into his mouth he made slurping sounds.      The statement was so ridiculous the President had to laugh. "You mean a permanent vacation? Apparently they're never coming back."      Mooba grinned knowingly as his head feathers twitched. "On the contrary. I've been with the Xxlepis 120 years and don't you think that if anybody should know what they're doing and why they're doing it, it would be I? That's my humble opinion. As for selecting your species, I've had second thoughts. But don't worry, Sir President, the Xxlepis will be back. Before their ship left I put a puppy on board."      He popped another sour lemon candy.

Sliver Pete

by Carol Moore

I've never told this story before, but just the same I'm telling you now.

I was a boy of 8 in 1885 and I lived in a small town out west with my baby sister and my folks who ran the local delivery stable. It might not have been such a bad place except for one man.

His name was Sliver Pete and we thought him the meanest, ugliest, most cussed hombre that ever packed a gun and it was well known he carried a Colt 45. He didn't much like to work, was a cowpoke a few months out of the year and the rest of the time he played and cheated at cards and killed anybody who called him on it. Then for recreation or just pure spite he killed every sheriff that ever tried to arrest him. There wasn't a soul that didn't fear Sliver Pete, even my Father.

The townspeople ended up offering a reward of $20,000 to anyone who could either run Sliver Pete out of town or put him in his grave. Mind you, that was a fortune in those days but when Sliver Pete heard there was a price on his head he just laughed and shot up the saloon and then the bakery. He said he was worth much more money than that. And when stranger after stranger came to collect the reward they came to stay because Sliver Pete put them in the town cemetery.

One very windy day the stagecoach arrived in town with an unusual passenger. I was there to witness it because it was my duty to water the stagecoach horses. The stagecoach door swung open and a single man, tall and gaunt and dressed in a brown/black coat and hat, with a white collar, stepped out. I had seen pictures of Abraham Lincoln and that is who this man reminded me of, although I knew Abraham Lincoln would not have been wearing a preacher's clothes. He waved the coachman away as he reached for his own trunk off the roof of the coach. The trunk was wrapped in a blue cloth that flapped in the wind although partially tied with a rope. Just as he got it to the ground a gust tore at the material and I clearly saw the writing on its side. He grabbed the cloth and stuffed it back into place, glancing straight at me. Then he smiled a slow smile, winked, and put his index finger to his mouth as if to say we shared a secret. That's the only incident I saw myself and all the rest I heard secondhand through either my folks or my friends.

The man called himself Preacher Dan. He said he hadn't come to stay but he was in our town on the Lord's business to get money to build a church. He'd already acquired most of it, but people were surprised when he said he planned on making the remainder by playing cards and that God had told him he would win the rest that he needed in just one night. Although such behavior was improper for a preacher nobody questioned it. He had a quiet manner and quick smile and, anyway, strangers never stayed too long.

That afternoon the card game started early. Among the four players around the table was Sliver Pete. Sliver Pete was his mean self, slouched in his chair with a whisky at his elbow. I was told Preacher Dan didn't say a word the first hour although he smiled readily enough if anyone caught his eye.

The first two games were won by Mike McGrew and Tom Eider, town regulars. The purse was small. There was static in the air like just before an electric storm. The third game the purse grew bigger and Sliver Pete won this round. He smiled for the first time and Preacher Dan smiled back.

"Nice going." the Preacher said. "I see the Lord's in need of help tonight."

Sliver Pete smirked.

But Preacher Dan wasn't finished. "I been eyeing that gun of yours. May I see it?"

The room grew suddenly quiet as Sliver Pete's smile vanished as quick as a Bluetail fly beneath a horse's tail swat. "No man touches my gun but me."

"Oh. I didn't mean anything by it," the Preacher grinned. "You know I'm not a man. Just a messenger of God. Don't usually cotton to guns either, but I hear you're right handy with one and I sure wanted to see the smoker that's done the damage."

Perhaps it was the hint of admiration in his voice, or maybe God intervened to soften Sliver's mood, but to everyone's surprise, Sliver Pete unholstered his Colt 45 and put it on the table. His eyes glowered about the room as if daring anybody to disapprove.

Preacher Dan calmly retrieved the gun and examined it thoroughly, looking up the barrel and bouncing it gently in his hand to weigh it. Suddenly, unaccountably it slipped from his fingers onto the floor. Kerplunk...

Sliver Pete jumped to his feet, sliding his chair back with a squeal. But just as quick the Preacher leaned over and retrieved the gun, wiping it with his jacket hem and sleeve. "Sorry 'bout that," he said, handing it back.

"Better sorry than dead," growled Sliver Pete. But there was a noticeable sigh of relief from the room as he holstered the 45 and sat back down.

After that things seemed to pick up speed as the bets got bigger. Mike McGrew pushed away from the table. "Too rich for my blood," he said. Now there were three left at the table, including Sliver and the Preacher, and Sliver Pete was winning big time. He had a small mountain of bills and coins and, recklessly, was playing for bigger and bigger stakes.

If Preacher Dan felt pressure he didn't show it although all his Church money was fast going to Sliver Pete. At last, just before dusk, the last call of cards came and Sliver had won it all. He wrapped his burly arms about the pot and began drawing it to him.

"Just a moment." The voice was soft and deadly and a startled Sliver didn't at first realize it came from the Preacher who added, "You been cheating all night and if you take that money now you can add thievery to the deed."

Sliver's hand went to his gun, but knowing the Preacher didn't carry a gun he held it there like a threat. "I don't cheat and I don't let no one call me one neither. Not even a preacher."

"Is that so? Let the Lord decide. That is, if you care to take your fight to the street where it's right and proper and you're not afraid to meet your maker," said the Preacher.

"Why, you don't even own a gun," sneered Sliver, "And you wouldn't know to shoot one anyhow." He literally spit out the words.

"I'm no match, that fact's assured. But God said I'd have that money tonight and you won't make him a liar." The Preacher's eyes narrowed with serious intent. "So long as someone here sees fit to loan me his gun, whomever remains standing will have spoke the truth."

Because Sliver Pete had never turned down a gunfight in his life and the Preacher was handed a gunbelt with two guns by the bartender, they ended up outside at opposite ends of the street. A small crowd gathered, not so much to witness Sliver Pete kill another man, but in sympathetic support of a foolish preacher who was about to die for the sake of his church.

The two men stood there a seeming eternity, each with their gun hand poised and ready. Then gun fire rang out and the look and smell of gun smoke filled the air. Sliver Pete blew away the smoke at end of his gun barrel as he saw the tall figure of Preacher Dan hit the dirt. Cries of anguish came from womenfolk in the crowd.

But Sliver Pete was unconcerned and made it a point to look bored. He had holstered his gun and started his walk back to the saloon when he noticed the body of the Preacher begin to move. Now Sliver Pete had never failed to kill with his first shot and he watched, fascinated, as the Preacher stood up and again pointed his borrowed gun. So Sliver Pete had to shoot him again, actually two shots just to be sure. The Preacher fell like a cut tree, straight down with his face in the dirt.

Sliver wiped his forehead with his gun hand still holding the gun and his eyes steady on the body of the Preacher. But what he hadn't expected to happen happened yet again. The crowd gasped as they saw the Preacher struggle once more to his feet.

This time Sliver Pete didn't even give the Preacher a chance to aim. For the first time in his life there was fear in his expression. Two gun shots rang out and the Preacher pitched over.

The crowd edged back from the street. There was something decidedly unnerving and otherworldly about this gunfight when a man wouldn't stay dead. It occurred to them maybe the Preacher had spoke the truth about his conversation with God. The same thing had occurred to Sliver Pete, because with a pale face he very slowly approached the body. He was 20 feet away when the Preacher again struggled to his knees and then his feet, this time holding out his hand palm up as if to say, "You owe me that money". The Preacher's black eyes bored into and through Sliver Pete and understandably Sliver responded with panic, this time aiming at the Preacher's head. It was his last bullet.

As the shot rang out Preacher Dan's hand slapped his forehead and his body swung a complete circle before falling face down into the dirt. Nobody and nothing moved except a corner of the Preacher's black jacket caught by a gust of wind. Sliver Pete was shaking so bad he simply couldn't tear his gaze off that body and the crowd looked from him to it and didn't know which was more incredible. They'd never seen Sliver Pete so afraid nor witnessed a dead man come back to life before.

Then there was a small movement just at the waist. A bird, a white dove, struggled free from beneath the body and with a gentle "coo, coo," flapped its wings and flew up into a cloudy sky and disappeared from sight.

Now I don't know what you would make of that, but the townsfolk and Sliver Pete both saw it as a sign from God. Truly this had been God's messenger and Sliver Pete had just killed the messenger. Unnerved he began backing away and had gotten 10 steps when the Preacher's body twitched and slowly pulled itself upwards to a standing position.

"Where are you going?" it boomed in a deep, sepulcher voice from the grave. "You owe me the Lord's money."

Sliver Pete simply fell apart. He gave a strangled squeak of terror, dropped his gun, whirled on his heels and ran up the street until he was out of sight. The stunned crowd watched him go before setting their fearful gaze back on the Preacher. Standing straight he flashed them a wide, friendly smile and suddenly didn't look so dead. True, there was blood on his forehead but with one sweep of his sleeve it mysteriously disappeared.

"That's one problem you won't see again," he said in a voice again friendly. "And don't worry yourselves 'bout me. Except, that is, unless you don't want to make good on your promise of a reward for getting rid of that snake Sliver Pete." He winked.

The townsfolk were happy to give Preacher Dan the reward. He didn't even collect all of it, only half, leaving the rest for the town church. Nobody ever heard from Sliver Pete again, although it was rumored he hadn't stopped running 'til he'd got to New Mexico, married and become a farmer, never to touch a gun again. People couldn't stop talking about how a man could be shot six times and rise up as if he hadn't been shot at all. But no one dared ask Preacher Dan to explain it and he left town so it remained a mystery to everyone except me.

You see, I remembered the day I saw the writing on the side of his trunk revealed by a pesky wind. It had said, "Dan the Magnificent. Magician's Illusions Great and Small." So Preacher Dan was not a preacher, but a gifted magician. I figure when he dropped Sliver Pete's gun at the card table he switched it for one with blanks. The white dove had just been for effect. Here was a man schooled in the ways of human nature and he had done us a great favor while being paid for his services. I thought at that time far be it for me to give away his secrets.

Some say it wasn't a preacher or even a dead man that got up off that dusty road, but an angel of the Lord himself, and in a manner of speaking that might be so.

But only God, Dan the Magnificent, and me -- and now you -- really knows the truth of what happened on that windy day in 1885.

The Little Gingerbread Man Written and Illustrated by Carol Moore
		Once upon a time there was an old woman who loved baking gingerbread. She would bake gingerbread cookies, cakes, houses and gingerbread people, all decorated with chocolate and peppermint, caramel candies and colored frosting. She lived with her husband on a farm at the edge of town. The sweet spicy smell of gingerbread brought children skipping and running to see what would be offered that day. Unfortunately the children gobbled up the treats so fast that the old woman had a hard time keeping her supply of flour and spices to continue making the batches of gingerbread. Sometimes she suspected little hands of having reached through her kitchen window because gingerbread pieces and cookies would disappear. One time a whole gingerbread house vanished mysteriously. She told her husband, "Those naughty children are at it again. They don't understand all they have to do is knock on the door and I'll give them my gingerbread treats."
		One day she made a special batch of gingerbread men because they were extra big. Unfortunately for the last gingerbread man she ran out of batter and he was half the size of the others. She decorated the gingerbread men with care, each having socks, shirt and pants of different colors. When it came to the little gingerbread man she felt sorry for him and gave him more color than the others. "It doesn't matter he's small," she thought, "He'll still be tasty." The Little Gingerbread Man Page 2   Putting the rack on the kitchen windowsill she left it there to cool and went to finish her laundry. The gingerbread men lay quietly, their frosted eyes gazing at the sky with its puffy clouds. At that moment a voice came from nowhere. "Get up. Get up. Come with me."     Everyone looked to see who was speaking. It was a butterfly flying just outside the window. Butterflies are naturally beautiful, but her wings were an exceptionally pretty marbled blue. "Come with me," she urged again. The gingerbread men didn't react except to keep staring. All but the smallest gingerbread man who jumped up from the tray and leaped off the kitchen windowsill onto the grass below faster than you could say "hurry." The Little Gingerbread Man Page 3   "Where are we going?" he asked breathlessly. "Away." And before the butterfly had finished speaking children appeared in the yard. Spying the little gingerbread man they started shrieking with delight and began chasing him.     "Stop, stop," they shouted. "We want to eat you." But with his little legs churning the gingerbread man only ran faster. He yelled, "I won't stop. Run, run as fast as you can. You can't catch me. I'm the gingerbread man." And truly those children could not catch him. Once out of their sight he continued running until he had reached a pasture where two horses were grazing. He sat down on a rock near the fence. "Don't stop," said the butterfly fluttering nearby. "I want to rest," he argued. The Little Gingerbread Man Page 4   That was a mistake as one of the horses trotted over to the fence and whinnied. "Oh you smell so good little gingerbread man. Come over here so I can smell you better."     The little gingerbread man shook his head, but suddenly that horse jumped the fence and began galloping after him, so he had to run even faster. He called out, "I outran children and I'll outrun you. Run, run as fast as you can. You can't catch me. I'm the gingerbread man." And truly, that horse could not catch him. The next time he rested the little gingerbread man took care to lie amongst the grass well off the road where no one would see him. "Everybody wants to eat me," he complained to the butterfly. "Do you want to eat me, too?" Laughing she answered. "I love the smell of gingerbread. It's better than my favorite flowers. But I sip nectar, not gingerbread. Besides, you're my friend and friends don't eat friends." The Little Gingerbread Man Page 5   Pleased to hear that he had a friend the little gingerbread man was about to reply when again they were interrupted. A farmer's dog with a keen nose had come to investigate. Licking his muzzle at the sight of the gingerbread man, the dog said. "Excuse me for interrupting, but little gingerbread man you look so good. I mean tired. Please stay awhile and rest if you like."     As the dog talked, he stepped closer and closer. The closer he stepped, the more nervous became the little gingerbread man. When the butterfly flitted from her grass perch in alarm, the little gingerbread man took off running with the dog nipping at his tiny heels. He shouted, "I outran children. I outran a horse,       and I'll outrun you, too. Run, run as fast as you can. You can't catch me. I'm the gingerbread man." And truly that dog could not catch him. At last the little gingerbread man and the butterfly reached a stream. It wasn't a very big stream unless you are a tiny gingerbread man. To him it was a river. From out behind a bush sauntered a red fox stopping to stretch because he had just awakened from a nap. Looking at the gingerbread man he said nonchalantly, "May I help you?" The butterfly was quick to respond. "No thank you. We're going to fly across this stream. We don't need your help." The Little Gingerbread Man Page 6   Smiling, the wily fox glanced at the butterfly before turning to the little gingerbread man, "You're going to carry him? I've no doubt Ms. Butterfly that you have good intentions, but you're only a bug. You couldn't carry anything anywhere, let alone this gingerbread man across the stream. You'll drop him. I guarantee it!" The little gingerbread man was confused. He knew that his butterfly friend had good intentions but could she really carry him? He doubted it. Her wings were so thin and delicate. The thought of him falling into the cold water and crumbling to damp bits was frightening. He said to the fox, "I outran children. I outran a horse, and I outran a dog. Will you keep me safe and not eat me?" "Of course!" the wily fox quickly assured him before the butterfly could object. "I eat only meat and I had a full meal just before my nap. Here, ride on my bushy tail. Let's go before I change my mind." So the little gingerbread man climbed onto the fox's tail and they entered the water.     Unfortunately the fox's tail began dipping into the water. "You're too heavy for my tail, he said. Climb onto my back." The little gingerbread man did as he was asked. But the water began creeping up the fox's back forcing the little gingerbread man to climb higher to the fox's neck. "That's not good enough, I'm afraid," said the wily fox. "Climb to my head." Now the little gingerbread man was terrified, but what could he do? He climbed to the fox's ears. The Little Gingerbread Man Page 7   "Oh, little gingerbread man, you have to climb onto my nose," insisted the wily fox, "otherwise I can't help you. Don't you see the water is getting even deeper?" So the little gingerbread man reluctantly climbed onto the fox's nose. The moment he did, that wily fox tossed him into the air, opening his jaws wide with anticipation. The little gingerbread man's eyes rounded with fear because he knew he was going to be eaten. It didn't matter now how fast he could run.     But the little gingerbread man and the wily fox had forgotten about the butterfly. She swooped into that fox's jaws, grabbing her friend by one leg and rescuing him from an awful fate. She flew higher and higher until the stream and the fox were but spots on the landscape.   The Little Gingerbread Man Page 8   "You can carry me," cried the little gingerbread man. "Yes," she answered. "I'm stronger than you could imagine. Now I'll take you somewhere safe."     She flew with him over farm fields and forests and even mountains. It felt like they had been in the sky forever when they reached a lake, its waters calm like pale glass. There was an island in the middle of the lake lined with forest trees. And among the trees was where the butterfly took the little gingerbread man. She flew down, down, and down until they came to the foot of a pine tree. The Little Gingerbread Man Page 9   The little gingerbread man could not believe his eyes. Beneath that pine tree was the most beautiful gingerbread house. Through the front door of the gingerbread house came a gingerbread man and a gingerbread woman. Seeing the butterfly and her companion they smiled excitedly waving their gingerbread hands. "Oh, what have you brought us?" cried the gingerbread woman. Evidently she knew the butterfly very well.     "I think that's obvious, dear" said the gingerbread man. "She's brought us a gingerbread boy. Do you realize that now we can be the family we always wanted?" It was true. The butterfly had intended all along to bring these three together. The little gingerbread man had not known that he was, in reality, a gingerbread boy. It was all so sudden, but wonderful. When both his gingerbread parents each gave him a loving hug he knew he was home.     The Little Gingerbread Man Page 10   The gingerbread family went inside their gingerbread house to celebrate with the butterfly remaining outside on the roof. She was content just smelling the gingerbread and sitting there quietly, whether it was day or night.     They all lived happily ever after.